


Hide & Seek

by sawbones



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M, Public Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10476654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: Reyes gets the drop on Ryder, pins him against the wall, and fucks him within an inch of his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Поймай меня, если сможешь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981047) by [fandom_MassEffect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_MassEffect/pseuds/fandom_MassEffect)



> From a request on tumblr: "I totally wouldn't mind if Reyes got the drop on Scott, pinned him to a wall, and fucked him within an inch of his life but idgaf"

“Pathfinder. You should be aware that you are being followed.”

Scott resisted the urge to glance behind him. Instead, he tossed back the last mouthful of his drink, and used the cup to keep his mouth covered.

“Who, where, and why?”

“Biometric data suggests it is Reyes Vidal,” SAM said, somewhere in the back of his head, “His exact location changes regularly but he has been within thirty feet of you for the last hour. Presently, he is approximately seventeen feet to your left, sitting in a booth with his back towards you. I cannot hypothesise his intentions, but scans confirm he is armed.”

Scott raised his brows and lowered his empty cup. He thought about it for a moment, then quirked his finger at the barperson to pour him another. If Reyes had plans for him, then he could wait.

–

In the end, Scott just asked the barperson to leave the bottle. He worked his way through it by himself, since Vetra and Gil had peeled off on their own after the third round. Scott didn’t mind; he had a high tolerance made higher by SAM’s modulating, but he had a nice even buzz going and figured it was time to call it a night. He paid his tab and got to his feet, but just as the bar’s doors closed behind him, SAM chirped in alarm.

“Pathfinder, I have lost track of Vidal. Something is jamming my signal. I believe he may be using a scrambler, much like the one we found in Spender’s quarters.”

He didn’t break stride, but he did slow down a little as he went down the stairs and cut across the the irradiated puddles under the slums. The watery lights from above didn’t quite make it that far down, and everything was cast in grim grey shadows. As he passed by one of the corroded support pillars, a shape suddenly appear from behind it. Ryder had his pistol out and cocked before he could stop himself. A gaunt-looking salarian cringed away from the blinding sight-light on Ryder’s gun.

“H-hey man, I’m not looking for any trouble,” the salarian slurred. His face was badly bruised, but Ryder didn’t know if it was from fists or drugs, “You got any credits you can spare? I need my fix, man, I just need a little–”

Ryder holstered his weapon and carefully side-stepped the unfortunate salarian, cursing himself for being too quick to react. If anyone was watching (and of course, they were), they would see he was jumpy, and thus probably onto them. He kept his head down and made straight for the transport lift. He felt a little safer inside it, since it was the single reliable means of getting to the port from the slums, and it was a little harder to tail someone hundreds of feet above you with no way to follow. Scott got one last glimpse of the slums before they disappeared from sight; there wasn’t a soul around. No Reyes, no-one else but the single salarian.

Somehow, that didn’t comfort him.

“SAM, any luck getting that signal back?” Scott asked the empty air quietly.

“Not yet, Pathfinder. It appears we are still within range of the scrambler.”

Scott felt a shiver run down his spine. He’d met enough wraiths to know what being hunted felt like. No scanner. No comms. He took a sharp breath and kept himself centered, hand on his pistol and lip between his teeth. He could take Vidal no problem - in a one-on-one fight. He still remembered the look on Sloane’s face when she found out the hard way that wasn’t how the Charlatan played. That wouldn’t be him.

The lift came to a juddering halt. There was a squeal of metal and the flight flickered once, flickered twice, and went out. Scott lurched towards the lift doors and immediately began trying to pry them open. That would _never_ be him.

Boots hit the deck behind him and the muzzle of a gun was shoved against the hinge of his jaw before Scott could even turn around. He exhaled deeply. _Shit._

“The lift, hm? I’m surprised,” Reyes purred in his ear, “Thought you would have head for the Badlands. If you had reached the Nomad, I wouldn’t have been able to catch you.”

“Been drinking,” Scott said. He tried to push back against his captor, but the more he pushed, the harder he found himself pinned to the metal grate, “Can’t drive like this.”

“You’re not drunk. Even if you were, this is Kadara. Who would pull you over, an eiroch?” Reyes asked. He pressed a little harder with the gun, “No, I think you wanted to be caught.”

Scott wet his lips. He shifted his footing, curled his fingers through the mesh, “Either way, you caught me. Congrats. What happens next?”

“Oh, exactly what you want to happen.”

There was a click of the gun being uncocked that made Scott’s heart seize (he really had it loaded, that crazy bastard), but he barely had time to register it before teeth closed around his sensitive earlobe, the tongue teasing in sync with the shift of Reyes’ hips as he ground against his ass.

“Oh, fuck,” Scott hissed, trying to turn so he could kiss Reyes, hold on to him, maybe work a thigh between his legs. Reyes stopped him.

“Yes, something like that,” he said with a low laugh that went straight to Scott’s cock. He gave into it, turning his head to bare his neck to him - how could he not? That voice, that laugh, that hand deftly working the fly of his pants open like he was picking a lock. Reyes squeezed him through his boxers hard enough to make him gasp.

“It looks like I was right,” he said, pushing Scott’s underwear aside to draw his cock into his hand, stroking in short, teasing pulls that made his legs shake.

“You going to shut up and make good on your word, or what?” Scott retorted. It was bravado, of course: he was about 30 seconds away from cumming on his shoes like a cadet getting his first handy behind the mess hall. There was already a quiver in his voice. He knew Reyes could hear it by the way he smiled against the back of his neck.

“I wonder why it is you talk like you are any way in control of this. Any of this. I caught you. Now I get to do whatever I want,” Reyes said. His hand disappeared and the sound of a belt being undone set his teeth on edge in all the best ways, made beads of sweat pick out on his brow that was nothing to do with the dry, suffocating heat, “And what I want is to make you moan so loud that there will be people in the slums _and_ the port wishing they were half so lucky.”

Reyes grabbed him by his hips and forcefully pulled him into a better position, shoving his pants down to just below his asscheeks. Somehow it made him feel more dirty and exposed than if he had just taken them off entirely. Scott pressed his face into the crook of his elbow like he was trying to hide, but there was no hiding from the slick finger that teased his entrance, making his breath catch in his throat. Reyes had came prepared, Reyes had came with this in mind. He had to bite his own sleeve to stop himself moaning out loud at that thought alone, but it was a losing game when the entreating finger slowly pushed inside.

Scott arched his back, trying to get closer as much as he was trying to escape, the sensation both familiar and foreign. He gritted his teeth, even as Reyes began to slowly rock his hand back and forth; if he wanted him to put on a show, he’d have to work harder than that. Another finger, however, and he was getting closer to it. The stretch and burn, Reyes’ breath in his ear, the cool metal he was clinging on to heating up under his hands; it would be easy to get lost in the blur of sensations, made fuzzy at the edges by his whiskey, but he didn’t want to.

“Ryder,” Reyes said, apparently for no reason other that just to let it roll of his tongue. He had two fingers working Scott open at an agonisingly slow pace, and the other slipped under the hem of his t-shirt, thumb pressed in one of the dimples at the small of his back, holding him in place, “Scott.”

Scott grunted in response, his head still down. He canted his hips, pushing back against Reyes, a clear sign that he wanted  - no, _needed_ \- more. Reyes laughed again, that same smooth warm sound that lit fires in Scott, and then those fingers were gone. He tried to reach behind himself to grab at him only to have his hand swatted away.

“Greedy boy,” Reyes hummed. There was a click of a lid being opened or closed, Scott didn’t know, and he cared even less when he felt the slick blunt head of Reyes’ cock glide over his needy hole, teasing him, pushing against but not quite _in_.

“Reyes,” Scott said impatiently as Reyes pushed his firm cheeks together and continued to rock between them, “Reyes, please. What, do you want me to beg?”

“Yes,” Reyes said. He sounded amused, but Scott didn’t miss that raspy, breathy edge to his voice. He wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he was pretending to be, “And I want them to hear it.”

“Christ, c’mon, fuck me,” Scott groaned. Reyes dealt him a stinging blow across his ass, so he lifted his head and tried again, practically shouting up the elevator shaft, “Reyes, please fuck me. Please!”

Reyes gave a burr of approval, and pressed a sloppy kiss to Scott’s neck as he slowly, unrelentingly pushed into him. It hurt beautifully, and forced a desperate strangled noise from behind Scott’s clenched teeth with every perfect inch until he was sure he was so full he couldn’t even draw a breath. Reyes didn’t give him time to adjust, simply wrapped his arms around Scott’s chest to anchor him in place as he drove into him. He must have been holding back before, because it was like someone had hit a switch; he fucked like he was desperate or angry, like he was trying to punish Scott with each hard thrust.

It was degrading, half-pleasure half-pain, and it was everything Scott had been hoping for. All he could do was cling on to the wire mesh like a drowning man and hope that his legs didn’t give out from under him. His pride was dashed on the rockface half a few feet away as he moaned with reckless abandon, unashamed of whoever might hear him above or below. Reyes was a steady stream of filth in his ear; he could only pick out fragments of it, lovely little sharp-edge promises of all the things he wanted to do to him, all the ways he wanted to have him, and more he couldn’t understand.

“Reyes, I think–” Scott began, but the words got caught on his tongue and he swallowed them instead. He tried to push a hand between his legs to touch himself but Reyes caught him by the wrist and twisted his arm up his back, pinning it in place, “Shit, shit, Reyes, please–”

The combination of the control, the pain, and the jack-hammer fucking was too much for Scott; he writhed and gasped in Reyes’ grip, and came in thin spurts over the side-panel of the lift with a borderline pathetic whine. It soothed his wound pride a little that Reyes followed a few strokes behind him, his forehead pressed between Scott’s shoulder blades as he pushed his hips flush against him, and came with a shudder and a hiss deep inside him.

They stayed like that for several long moments, simply breathing through the haze. Reyes pulled out with a shiver, but held onto him from behind with his hand up Scott’s shirt again, stroking soothing circles across his stomach. It took Scott a while for him to feel solid enough to let go of the mesh he’d been hanging from; Reyes turned him around, let him lean against it instead. He took ahold of his hands, the fingers striped red and white from gripping too hard, and gently rubbed the feeling back into them.

“You good?” he asked. His carefully gelled hair was out of place and their was a delicious flush of red in his cheeks.

“Better than good, actually,” Scott said with a lopsided smile. He leaned in to steal a kiss from Reyes while he pulled his pants back up and tucked himself away. His whole body ached in the best way, “That was amazing.”

“I hope I wasn’t too rough with you,” Reyes said in between the soft pecks.

“I’d stop you if you were,” Scott said. SAM chirped happily to let him know the elevator was mysteriously fixed, and his signal had spontaneously returned. Scott’s smile grew as he looped his arms around Reyes’ shoulders, “It’s your turn to run next time. I get the feeling I’m going to have to get really creative to get the drop on you.”

“It’s not the chase that matters, Pathfinder. It’s what you do when you catch me,” Reyes said. There was already a mischievous glint in his eyes, “ _If_ you can catch me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, come say hi at [space-mother](https://space-mother.tumblr.com/), my gay Mass Effect blog. I take prompts/requests, but would also just like some more friends.


End file.
